One Day Out
(WHN to Run to Tumavaca - Laramie)
A cobalt sky held at its apex a single brilliant white beacon. The full moon, ivory and dove gray, appeared much larger than usual, and the colorless light it gave off draped a shroud of daylight over the surrounding landscape. Complimenting their luminous host, a mass of stars twinkled brightly, lending their weak glow to the panorama of the cool autumn night.
The telltale scent of wood smoke and fresh-brewed coffee hovered in the air, rekindling memories of similar evenings when he'd sat on chilled ground, sipping the warm bitter brew … exhausted, sore, hurting in more ways than one … alone. Tonight, he was all of those things except one. To his left, Slim Sherman, an uncommon friend who, months earlier, had upended his solitary existence with an invitation to stay and work at his small ranch, grinned.
"Be home tomorrow," Slim said casually.
Jess carefully sipped the hot coffee, shivered slightly as the warm liquid flowed downward to his stomach then branched out to his upper body and limbs. He focused on the tin cup, deliberately keeping his eyes averted. At the moment, both his body and his emotions were fragile and, if nothing else, his new pard was extremely adroit in reading him. "Home," he heard himself say. "That's a nice word."
Slim tilted his head, frowning in mild skepticism. "A little while ago you told me something you said to Mrs. Demeistre about belonging, and now you're mooning over the word 'home'. Now, I think the big open's almost lost you for good."
Reluctantly, Jess locked gazes with the man who was now his best friend. In those deepset ice-blue eyes he found strong expectation, hope, and a depth of emotion so profound that it both stunned and surprised him. The knowledge that he was exposing identical emotions to Slim made him sever the visual connection. Inwardly shaken by what had been revealed, he turned away and pulled in a long, shaky breath. Finally, he said in a very quiet voice. "Yeah, a lot of us used to like to break away once in a while."
"Only often enough to know it's still out there," Slim said. He stood, moved to his bedroll and settled his long, lithe body into it.
"Don't try to josh me!" Jess tossed the rest of the coffee onto the ground and put the cup away, then crawled onto his own makeshift bed. "You never completely lost that itch any more than I have or will."
"Well, maybe that's true, but for Andy I can't scratch that itch as often as you can."
Even in the darkness, Jess could see the corners of Slim's mouth pull upward into a melancholy smile. He allowed himself a small nod of understanding. "It's not too hard to get you on the trail, Slim." He lay back, careful not to jostle the fresh wound in his shoulder. Just as he relaxed, his partner spoke up again.
"Well. that's true … just you with one foot in trouble and the other in a barrel of axle grease." Expecting retaliation, Slim yanked a blanket over his legs and torso and rolled quickly onto his side.
"That ain't so!" Jess shot back, outwardly bristling at the remark but secretly pleased at the gentle teasing. When there was no reply, he lay prone on the bedroll, staring up at the fragrant wisps of smoke spiraling above a copse of towering pines.
/…just you with one foot in trouble …/
Well, it wasn't like he hadn't warned Slim on that first day. Trouble! Even when he did everything possible to keep his nose clean, his pistol holstered, and his temper under wraps, trouble still found a way to wrap its sticky fingers around him. Before meeting the Shermans, living and working with them, it hadn't mattered with whom he rode, what he did, where he sought shelter from the wind and rain. He had no one to answer to but himself. He'd enjoyed that detachment from others, never allowing anyone or anything to burrow into his heart.
Until Laurel …
He had known it was wrong … in the laws of God and in the eyes of man … yet, she was irresistible … a modern-day Delilah who'd learned his weakness and used it to manipulate him to do her bidding. She had played him for a fool with her sad doe eyes, soft lips, and corn silk hair.
/"If only we could go away together, just the two of us, I'd be free from his cruelty."/
/"He doesn't love me; he never loved me! I'm all alone in that big house until he needs me to fulfill my wifely duties."/
/"I love you, only you! When he reaches for me in the night, I pretend it's you."/
"Stupid …" he whispered. "Stupid … stupid … stupid!"
He despised weakness in men and admitting to himself that he'd been duped by a woman - no … not a woman … a miserable soulless creature who knew nothing of giving or even receiving love - was almost too much to bear.
Frowning, he stopped the depressing train of thought as, from his left, the overture to Slim's nightly symphony of snores began. Jess managed a wan smile in the dark. His friend had followed him all the way to Mexico to save him from greedy bounty hunters, Mr. Demeistre, Laurel … and, most of all, himself. Slim had endured the hardship of being away from his ranch, his friend, Jonesy, and his younger brother, Andy … all because he was concerned about one ne'er-do-well ex-gunfighter named Jess Harper.
"Thanks, Slim," he whispered as the campfire spat and hissed a final time. "That's one I'll hafta owe ya!" Sighing to himself, Jess settled back into the warmth of his homemade bedroll, closed his eyes and fell asleep.
End